


The Crow;Requiem Aeternam

by Ariadne_Yemoja



Category: The Crow (Comics)
Genre: James O'Barr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariadne_Yemoja/pseuds/Ariadne_Yemoja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Crow story, this one is set in Washington DC around the mid to late 80s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crow;Requiem Aeternam

_Hear my prayer;_

_To you shall all flesh come._

_Eternal rest grant upon them, O Lord,_

_And let perpetual light shine upon them._

 

            It was always so dark here, but it was okay.  They could make their own light.  The radio poured Nancy Sinatra over the room gently as they held each other.  Tim brushed soft auburn curls from his lovers face and kissed his forehead gently.  Vincent looked up at him with over bright blue eyes and smiled.  Tim leaned back on the pillow and stared up at the paint chipped ceiling.  His lover laid his head on his chest humming along with the radio.  A siren screamed in the distance; a normal occurrence but this time it felt so near.  Red, blue, red, blue; the room lit up in flashes of color.  Gunfire drifted up to their room and Vincent buried his face in Timothy’s chest sadly.

“I hate this place…” He whispered.  “There is always a siren…always noise.”  Timothy smirked and cleared his throat.

“It’s the big city, love.  That’s its soundtrack.”  Timothy kissed his pale forehead again and sank back into the pillows.  “When we can afford to move we will.  A real nice place…maybe we’ll go somewhere sunny.” He said.  He could feel Vincent smiling against his chest as Patti LaBelle told some unknown lover if only they knew.

“Sunny...by the sea maybe?” he asked.  Tim laughed as the lights faded from their window and moved on.  Somewhere a dog was barking and trash cans were being upended.

“Yeah by the sea…”

“We won’t make it to the sea…” his lover whispered.  Tim squeezed his shoulders tight.

“Of course we’ll make it to the sea.  We’ll make it together and there won’t be anyone who can stop us.”  The sirens were back, more police cars drove by beneath their window.  Tim was feeling a little cold but he didn’t want to move from this spot. 

“We won’t make it to the sea, Tim.  I’m sorry, but we won’t make it…”  Vincent said.  Tim opened his mouth to speak but a sudden overwhelming cold gripped his throat.  He tried to shake himself free of it but it only spread in response.  “We won’t make it…”  Vincent sat up on the bed away from him, turning paler and paler as he stood.  Tim began to have trouble breathing.  The cold ate at him making it so hard to move.  There was a loud fluttering to his right.  His violet eyes could only glance at the large shape alighting on the window sill.  It cawed raucously and raised its wings in an almost shrugging gesture.

**_(He’s right.  You won’t make it to the sea, kiddo…)_ **

Panicking, he turned back to his lover.  Vincent seemed to be wilting.  His beautiful curls fell away from him like rose petals and his arms seemed to wither, becoming as white as ivory.

**_(It’s not your fault though…)_ **

Tim wanted very much to not be here anymore but he couldn’t seem to free himself.  Vincent’s beautiful body seemed to be drying up.  Those long delicate fingers looked more like jagged claws.  The cold filled his lungs and his breathing stopped completely.

**_(I will free you, and you will find those who are at fault.)_ **

Darkness; it was always so dark here.  He couldn’t even see the flash of the police lights anymore; only darkness.  His limbs began to tingle and the cold started to let go of him.  Timothy tried to grab something but all that was around him was solid.  It felt as though he were punching solid wood.

**_(Wake up Timothy, no more dreaming now…)_ **

He shoved and shoved at his dark prison until he could feel something heavy and loose rain on top of him.  Earth; it was dirt.  He was underground.

**_(Six feet deep, kiddo.  Keep pushing, you’re almost there.)_ **

Cold air and clear sky; his hand felt a chill wind nipping his fingers as he pulled and pushed the soil steadily increasing his speed.  He could faintly see stars hanging above him.  Something fluttered across his vision, a familiar dark blur with wings outspread.  He pulled himself up into the world above and breathed deeply.  Pain made him shut his eyes as if in concentration, he tried to cry out but could only gasp.

**_(Just like being born again ain’t it Tim-Tim.)_ **

He continued to wriggle free from his prison and collapsed on the mound of soft dirt beneath him.  A cold wind ruffled his filthy dark red hair as he steadied his breathing, a plume of fog rising in time with his breath.  He pulled himself to his knees and gripped the soil looking through shaggy hair at his surroundings.  A cemetery; behind him a headstone with his name and some Latin phrase he didn’t understand.

            He stood slowly, his joints stiff, and spun around.  The cold was the least of his problems at the moment.  Why was he here?  Where was Vinnie?  He looked down at the stone to his left and he felt the air leave his lungs again.  He crashed back down to his knees and shivered though he no longer even felt the cold.  The massive bird that sat on the top of the stone hopped down to the ground and walked closer to him.

**_(Take it in boy, take it in.  Understand why you are here.)_ **

Timothy gripped the dirt as the tears spilled from his eyes.  He let a keening wail pour out over the cemetery making the large crow beside him flutter and hop away a little.  The bird fluttered up and landed on his shoulder, brushing his cheek with its wing almost consolingly.

**_(Remember boy, I know it’s hard but you have to remember…)_ **

He tried, he tried hard but all he could see was faces, faces of men standing around him smiling hatefully.  In the center of those faces he could see huge black wings coming towards him.  The faces continued to smile as though they didn’t know their ends were near.  Timothy knew that death was coming for each one of those men.

**_(That’s right Tim-Tim, and it wears your face.)_ **

All he had to go on were faces; faces etched in colors of hate and pain.  He stood and shed the blazer and shirt he had been buried in embracing the cold wind that whipped across his chest.  The bird on his shoulders stared down a familiar street and he walked down the path of the cemetery.  He touched Vincent’s headstone as he walked by.  _I’ll return love_ , he thought, _and I’ll bring you gifts wrapped in red velvet…_


End file.
